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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27176740">The Pickety Witch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove'>vivilove</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Historical AUs [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Inspired by a scene from Sleepy Hollow, Jealous Jon, Late 18th Century, Party Games, Post-Revolutionary America, Samwell Tarly is a precious cinnamon roll, Sansa being a sweetie, Snowed In, but this isn't spooky or gory, pining jon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:40:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27176740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“A game! Let’s play a game!” Sansa declares after supper while Tom Sevenstrings and his friends pluck out a tune.</p><p>“The Pickety Witch!” someone suggests and several more agree.</p><p>Sansa laughs as her friend Jeyne Poole covers her eyes with a length of fine silk. What a sight she is in her pretty blue gown with her red hair shining brightly, curled and coiffed just so. Her rosy lips and that bit of black silk upon her porcelain skin, she presents an image that Jon knows will revisit him in the night. Honor will have him attempting to banish the thoughts it will spur. Carnal desire will encourage him in them.</p><p>They twirl her around three times, the children, young ladies and gentlemen chuckling and edging about the limited allotted space for the game as their elders watch from nearby smiling with nostalgia for their own youths perhaps.</p><p>“The Pickety Witch, the Pickety Witch, who’s got a kiss for the Pickety Witch?” Sansa asks with her hands stretched out before her, eager to snare a victim and guess who it is she’s caught.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jon Snow &amp; Samwell Tarly, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Historical AUs [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747234</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>187</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Pickety Witch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/gifts">Amymel86</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Amy sent me a dialogue prompt on Tumblr and I did this with it.  The Pickety Witch or Blind Man's Bluff was a party game from long ago where someone was blindfolded and had to make guesses about something, in this instance they had to capture another player and correctly guess who they were.  It was featured in Tim Burton's film Sleepy Hollow where Ichabod and Katrina first meet and inspired this but with a slight twist.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“We’re going to have to stay here tonight.”</em>
</p><p>The announcement had been greeted with no surprise. Even without tales of headless horsemen, witches or evil spirits in the forest, autumn in Northern New England carries its own hazards. The weather can turn unexpectedly.</p><p>The blizzard had kept anyone of sense from attempting the journey home and their host had gallantly offered refuge for his guests beyond the harvest feast.</p><p><em>“Stay as long as necessary,”</em> Eddard Stark had told them.</p><p>Some had chosen not to stay. The Umbers had set off that first night regardless saying they did not fear a bit of snow or any ghost stories. Jon wonders how their coach and horses fared along the indifferent roads in such conditions and if the Umbers reached their hearth. Or are they now headless victims of a malicious spirit? More likely, they might be frozen corpses, their eyes unseeing and their spirits wandering through the woods railing at their own folly.</p><p>Most had stayed, like the Tarlys. Samwell is his age, a likeable though bookish man who often winds up the butt of jests which hardly seems fair since Sam’s twice as smart as most any man here. Jon is glad to call him his good friend. He is also secretly protective of him when it comes to settings such as this where Sam might not be shown due respect by some. His brother Dickon is here as well. Though he’s a few years younger than Sam, he does not need Jon’s protection.</p><p>There are some who Jon wishes hadn’t stayed as well, particularly Harrold Hardyng. A puffed up jackanape who charms the ladies with his compliments and looks down his nose at Jon’s old waistcoat, the only one he possesses decent enough for the Starks’ house, while cruelly poking fun at Sam’s fondness for sweets when the ladies aren’t present.</p><p>Jon almost wishes he had attempted the journey back to his own modest homestead himself. He knows Tormund won’t let his livestock starve or freeze but he feels his responsibilities as a newer landowner keenly and thinks he should be there, too.</p><p>But Mister Stark looks upon his former ward quite fondly and Jon could not refuse his entreaty to remain. <em>“It’s four miles to home for you which may as well be ten leagues in these conditions. Pray, stay a little longer, Jon.”</em></p><p>And why shouldn’t Jon wish to remain at Winterfell during a blizzard? He spent most of his boyhood here after all.</p><p>Because of Mister Stark’s daughter Sansa, that’s why.</p><p>From gawky and somewhat missish at thirteen, she has blossomed into a beauty, willowy, graceful and sweet at seventeen. Jon had liked her well enough as a girl but they’d had little occasion to converse one on one. But now? Oh, he’d enjoy sitting by her side at the hearth for hours upon end if he could.</p><p>She’d been standing by her father’s side to greet their guests upon arrival when they’d met again for the first time in years. She’d shook hands with him, giving him a friendly smile and saying how much she’d missed him here. Jon had been enchanted and his enchantment has only grown since then as one night of her company had stretched into several.</p><p>Therefore, Jon cannot bear watching Harrold Hardyng’s obvious attempts to court her right under the nose of their elders. What does Mister Stark think of Hardyng? More importantly, what does Sansa think? For her part, Sansa only smiles politely at his oafish gallantry like the gracious young lady she is but is there any attachment blooming?</p><p>Jon hopes not though he is likely a fool to hope. He’s quite proud of his homestead but knows it wouldn’t have been likely for him without Mister Stark’s help and it is not a scratch on a grand house like Winterfell. If he thought an offer of marriage between him and Sansa might be accepted though…oh, he is a fool to hope.</p><p>On the seventh night of his unexpectedly extended visit, the young people are growing restless. There is only so much gossip to share, only so many stories to tell. Days and nights kept indoors with mixed company relaxes some of the usual decorum and makes them bolder.</p><p>“A game! Let’s play a game!” Sansa declares after supper while Tom Sevenstrings and his friends pluck out a tune.</p><p>“The Pickety Witch!” someone suggests and several more agree.</p><p>Sansa laughs as her friend Jeyne Poole covers her eyes with a length of fine silk. What a sight she is in her pretty blue gown with her red hair shining brightly, curled and coiffed just so. Her rosy lips and that bit of black silk upon her porcelain skin, she presents an image that Jon knows will revisit him in the night. Honor will have him attempting to banish the thoughts it will spur. Carnal desire will encourage him in them.</p><p>They twirl her around three times, the children, young ladies and gentlemen chuckling and edging about the limited allotted space for the game as their elders watch from nearby smiling with nostalgia for their own youths perhaps.</p><p>“The Pickety Witch, the Pickety Witch, who’s got a kiss for the Pickety Witch?” Sansa asks with her hands stretched out before her, eager to snare a victim and guess who it is she’s caught.</p><p>All around the little area, she takes a step and then another, grasping at thin air. She’s hemmed in by her would-be captures but the space is enough to leave her uncertain of anyone’s exact whereabouts.</p><p>Beth Cassel screeches and scurries when Sansa nears her. Samwell squeaks and dodges her at one point, making his brother Dickon laugh heartily and barely elude capture himself. Little Rickon stomps on his brother Bran’s foot in his eagerness to escape his sister the Pickety Witch. She’s by far the prettiest Pickety Witch that ever was in Jon’s opinion.</p><p>Jon grins as she nears him and stands his ground. He hates to see her stuck in the middle indefinitely. And he’ll gladly let her capture him especially if it means she might choose to give her victim a kiss (even if it means he’ll be the blind man next.)</p><p>But a sound from the left draws her attention before she gets close enough to touch him and she turns.</p><p>Jon scowls, seeing that Harry has knocked the fireplace poker from its place. From his smug grin as Sansa moves towards him, Jon knows he did that on purpose.</p><p>His heart clenches, waiting for her to reach him. Like Jon, Harry isn’t moving.</p><p>She’s nearly to him, no more than a foot away. At any second, she’ll put her hands on his chest, his shoulders, touch his face and Jon will have to watch it all with a feigned smile as the sickening feeling in his stomach increases.</p><p>But when she’s right in front of Harry, Sansa does something unexpected. She darts to the right and nabs another victim.</p><p>Sam yelps. Yes, it’s a bit undignified but Sam does startle easily. Jon sees her lips twitching with suppressed laughter as his own are doing the same.</p><p>Sansa gently rubs his broad shoulders and then touches his round face. She wears an expression of puzzlement though, surely, she knows who she’s caught.</p><p>Or perhaps she doesn’t?</p><p>“Is it Loras?” she asks sweetly.</p><p>“N-no, Mm-Miss Sansa,” Sam stammers while Loras Tyrell across the room looks positively aghast at being mistaken for Samwell Tarly.</p><p>His voice will have given it away, Jon is sure.</p><p>Or maybe not.</p><p>“Ah, it must be Dickon then!”</p><p>Dickon Tarly may be younger but he is a head taller than his brother and far less rotund. Sansa doesn’t know the Tarlys all that well but she has spent the past week in their company and Jon has never heard her call them by anything but their correct names during that time.</p><p>Unkind laughter from some of the other lads breaks out. Some of the girls present titter cruelly, the girls who look at Dickon with moony eyes and give Sam dismissive looks. Jon glares at them all as does Dickon.</p><p>“No, I’m not Dickon, Miss Sansa,” Sam says, apologetically. Jon feels sorry for him.</p><p>“You must be a stranger to me then but clearly you are a noble gentleman, sir,” Sansa declares before kissing Samwell Tarly softly on the cheek. Sam’s eyes are wide as saucers as she removes her blindfold. “Oh ho, my mistake! He is no stranger at all but I was right to name him a noble gentleman,” she tells the others in a firm but merry tone.</p><p>The unkind laughter and cruel titters from a moment ago dry up in an instant. Jon can hear pleased laughter from the true friends present and everyone’s spirits are jolly again as Sansa helps blindfold and spin Sam for his turn.</p><p>Everyone’s spirits are jolly except for Jon’s, that is.</p><p>He’d never thought to be jealous of Sam in this manner but now, there is no denying that he is. Sansa kissed Sam on the cheek. Sansa has named Sam noble, which he is, and Jon has never felt less noble in his life. Sam carries an old, respectable family name and is the heir to more money than Jon will ever know. Sam would make her a finer match than most of these fools would ever acknowledge if they had any inclination for one another in that manner.</p><p>Feeling depressed and ridiculous, Jon decides to leave the circle of players and goes to fetch himself some cider. Once he has it, he retreats to the Starks’ deserted library.</p><p>He entirely misses Samwell catching Gilly, one of the serving girls, naming her correctly at once even with his blindfold in place and chastely pressing a kiss to her hand, making the girl blush with pleasure.</p><p>It is there where he broods alone in the library with his hard cider that he’s discovered. She has caught him after all. Tis only fitting. She has held him captive from the moment he arrived here.</p><p>“Why did you leave the game?”</p><p>“I was feeling…” <em>Jealous</em>. “Tired.”</p><p>“I hope you’re not unwell.”</p><p>“Not at all, Miss Sansa.”</p><p>“‘Miss Sansa,’ is it? That’s terribly formal. We’ve known each other since we were children, Jon.”</p><p>“Yes, you’re right. Sorry, Sansa. You knew you’d caught Sam, didn’t you?”</p><p>“I did.”</p><p>“Why’d you pretend otherwise?”</p><p>“I don’t like the way some of our guests treat him.”</p><p>“Nor I.”</p><p>“I know. I know he’s your friend and quite dear to you.”</p><p>“He is. He’s a very good man.”</p><p>“Yes, everyone should open their eyes and see it.”</p><p>It’s true. Why are his spirits are in such turmoil? He agrees with her but envy is twisting it, turning it into snake in his guts that would eat his heart if it could.</p><p>“I have a confession to make,” she says softly next.</p><p>“A confession?”</p><p>She bats her full eyelashes. It seems to make those impossibly blue eyes look even bluer. “I knew I was right in front of Harry. I could see just a bit beneath the blindfold. I recognized his boots. I reached for the person next to him because I didn’t wish to capture him.”</p><p>That snake in his guts is withering away as something else swells. “Oh? You do not care for him, do you?”</p><p>“No, I do not. I was actually hoping to capture someone else. I was looking for a certain set of feet but never got close enough to see them.”</p><p>“Not Sam’s?”</p><p>She shakes her head, her curls bouncing as her cheeks flood with color.</p><p>His heart may eat that snake. There is no room for jealousy here tonight. “Oh? Whose boots were you hoping to find, may I ask?”</p><p>She smiles as their eyes meet. “Who’s got a kiss for the Pickety Witch, Jon?”</p><p>He licks his lips and grins back at her before cupping her satiny cheek. “I do.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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